Chapter 51
Will didn’t know what he expected when they passed through the final layer of Aether, but it wasn’t calm. Everything just . . . stopped. The rain ceased to fall, and the boulders stopped pummeling the ship. Will loosened his grip on the helm, and it didn’t whirl out of control.
Sunlight didn’t pierce the storm, but the glowing Aether surrounding them provided enough light to see. Will had never swum in the ocean, but he imagined this was what it felt like to dive into its depths.
The secret heart of the Aether Storm was a pocket that felt removed from time and space.
Although the storm still howled behind, above, and below them, it seemed trapped behind glass.
The result was a vast spherical space concealing one tall, proud mountain, with all the others shoved beyond the barrier.
The largest door Will had ever seen rested on the face of the mountain—a door that knew it was destined to make history.
The Skyvault.
Will deactivated Ultima, and instantly, he felt everything he’d just put his body through.
His arms ached from holding the wheel, and his hands were covered in cuts from the glass.
His core and thighs burned from the effort spent keeping his balance in check, and a dull headache throbbed at his temples, tunneling his vision.
And like a true Class Four, Ultima had bound itself to him. The antique chain dug into his skin, growing roots while the pendant remained loose for activation. It felt like a thousand tiny pricks of a needle. With a few more uses, Ultima would become like Hellsgate: removable only by force.
Will blinked the discomfort away, compartmentalizing all of his pain to be addressed later before ceding control of the ship to Nicholas and approaching Amaya. She stood in awestruck silence as the crew slowly emerged from below deck, surveying the damage and scanning the unearthly surroundings.
“Are you all right?” he asked, scanning her for any additional injuries.
Amaya tore her eyes from the Skyvault, meeting his eyes with a small nod.
She scrunched up the sleeves of the red coat to show the nicks along her arms. The Aether had either soaked in or trickled off of her body, leaving behind only grayish-lavender streaks where it had mixed with her blood. All right, perhaps, but not unscathed.
“It still stings,” she said. “But yes, better.” She reached for Will, and he pulled her tightly into his arms, holding her to his chest and kissing the top of her wet hair.
“We found it,” Amaya said.
“You found it.”
“The Maelstrom . . .”
Will couldn’t lie; it hurt seeing his ship so battered only days after they’d repaired it.
The hull was badly damaged, the shields depleted, and the starboard wing all but shredded.
But not just any ship could withstand a storm like that, and she was still airborne.
The only emotion worth summoning was pride.
“We can do more repairs. It’ll be fine.”
“But how will we get back if there’s nothing to stop the storm here?”
Will’s jaw clenched at the thought. Could the Maelstrom withstand a second trip? Could Amaya? With Pearce removed from the equation, there was no guarantee anything inside the Skyvault would help them end the storm.
“I’m hoping we’ll find something. But if not, we’ll destroy the vault and go back the way we came,” Will said, feigning confidence.
“Let’s get you dried off. Sebastian?” Will scanned the demolished pilothouse to find Sebastian staring up at the Skyvault with a stupidly vacant, reverent expression. “Sebastian.”
The first mate’s gaze snapped to Will’s. “Hm?”
“Get the skiffs ready.”
The crew set about lighting lamps and torches, cleaning up the debris and broken glass so it wouldn’t harm them further on their return journey, while Serena and Malcolm ran diagnostics on the ship.
Meanwhile, Will brought Amaya back to his—their—cabin.
While Amaya washed up, Will sat at his desk, exhausted.
At first, he’d thought Ultima was just taking a toll on his body, but that didn’t adequately explain it. He felt . . . strange. There was something he needed to do. Something he’d been doing.
Will slammed his fist down on his desk, willing the answer to reveal itself. But it didn’t.
“Will? Is everything okay?” Amaya called from the washroom.
“Fine,” Will lied. “Just dropped something.”
Will reached into his pocket and brought out Wayfinder, along with a small silver device with a single button and a short antenna. He knew what it was, but his mind wouldn’t allow him to perceive its purpose.
He set Wayfinder aside and rolled the device between his fingers, resisting the compelling, impulsive urge to press the button.
He had to press the button.
He couldn’t press the button.
It was the only way.
It was their doom.
It would save Amaya.
No, it would hurt her.
It would . . .
Will tried and failed to wrangle his thoughts. Half of them weren’t his own, and the ones that were disappeared into the deep recesses of his mind the second he conjured them, replaced by a single, compulsive notion that created an echo chamber in his head.
Do it. Now.
Will dissociated, his mind and body acting without him as his thumb pressed the button.
A weight lifted off his shoulders then, lightening further when Amaya exited the washroom in fresh clothes, all blood and Aether residue scrubbed off. She wrapped her arms around him from behind and turned his head so she could kiss him.
Amaya smiled against his lips, and Will felt her body relax against his back.
“Shall we go open that door?” she asked.
Will, Amaya, Edmund, Sebastian, Malcolm, and Serena disembarked the Maelstrom on windskiffs, zipping across the eerily serene pocket to the lone mountain.
The Skyvault’s door stretched as tall as a three-story building, dominating the mountain’s face and cutting an impressive shadow over a short, rocky cliff just large enough for them to land on.
The door’s top half displayed a circle carved from aged bronze and oxidized copper, etched with constellations and geometric patterns.
Gears peeked out from behind the circle, giving Will the impression it was some kind of locking mechanism.
The door’s lower half was unremarkable in its design, but had no doorknob or visible keyhole.
A large slab of steel blocked their path, engraved with more constellations in a representation of a star chart.
Gems represented most of the stars, but roughly a dozen of them were missing.
Small, circular cavities marked their places instead.
The door looked impressive from the Maelstrom, but up close, it dwarfed their entire company.
And no one had any idea how to get inside.
“How did Pearce build all this?” Amaya asked. She approached the Skyvault first and traced the constellations’ ridges.
“He didn’t,” Edmund said. “Westin Cory had it built for him. It was a place he could work without the distraction of fame.”
“While Cory started a damn war,” Will muttered. Graven had been manipulating people for his own gain from the beginning. What kind of war between worlds could he start if he got his way?
Malcolm ran a scan on the door. “It doesn’t seem very complex. I sense only one layer of security,” he said.
“We should fire some cannons and blow it up,” Sebastian muttered.
“Absolutely not! We have no idea what’s inside,” Edmund said.
“We have kind of an idea.”
“No, Ed’s right,” Will said. Pearce had been an accomplished scientist, mechanic, artificer, and alchemist. Any manner of dangerous materials could be inside. “We need to open it properly.”
“You don’t suppose the conductor fits in one of those little holes, do you?” Serena suggested. She stepped up beside Amaya and outlined one of the cavities with her finger. “Looks like the same size.”
“It shouldn’t. He made the conductor after the Skyvault was built,” Edmund said.
“Yeah, but if he was worried about someone like Cory accessing what’s inside, he could have modified the door,” Serena said.
Amaya pulled out the conductor and held it above the indentation she’d been examining, comparing their sizes. From Will’s vantage point, they looked identical.
“Pearce did like turning objects into keys,” Amaya said. She began pressing the conductor into one of them. But when she did, the mountain started trembling under their feet. The Skyvault door groaned, like a beast awakening from a long slumber.
“Wait! We don’t know which one!” Edmund shoved Amaya aside and yanked the conductor out of the door. Almost instantly, the trembling stopped.
Will’s stomach flipped, not wanting to find out what would become of them if the damn cliff gave out and sent them plummeting through the storm.
“It’s probably booby-trapped,” Edmund said. “Anything could happen if we pick the wrong one.”
Will studied the door once more, counting fifteen constellations engraved on it—all of them missing exactly one star.
Malcolm scanned the Skyvault again. “Yes . . . I can confirm that Miss Sinclair’s action seems to have triggered a variety of additional mechanisms.”
“I’m sorry,” Amaya said, breathless. “I wasn’t thinking.”
“Clearly,” Edmund huffed.
“What kind of mechanisms?” Will asked Malcolm.
“It’s hard to say. Thankfully, they were not fully activated,” Malcolm said.
Amaya stomped her foot in an impatient, almost childish release of irritation that would have made Will smile if their situation wasn’t so dire.
“Well, how are we supposed to know which one it is?” she asked.
Edmund rubbed his chin. “We should identify the constellations, to start. Pearce likely had an affinity for one star or constellation in particular. I’ll have to go get some books.”